Sick Day
by Nerual-56
Summary: "The two were as inseparable as brothers, but you'd never know by the volley of sarcastic banter thrown between the two. Eames liked to think that he knew Arthur better than anyone else on the team. Even better than Cobb." No slash. Oneshot


_[Poor Arthur lol. I love Inception. And Arthur. And Eames. No slash. Short, oneshot. To be honest, this fic is less about Eames helping out Arthur when he's sick. Its more about the relationship between the two. From what I've noticed around here, its either not defined (normal banter like in the movie), or taken in the other direction (slash). Personally, I don't prefer slash and I've noticed that no "middle ground" has been established. The dialogue is like the banter in the movie, but through narration and Eame's direct thoughts, I think I've defined their friendship in a clear way.]_

Eames strolled into the spacious, arched warehouse that he considered his office. _"For now anyways,"_ The "team", Cobb, Yusuf, Ariadne, Arthur, and Eames was soon to be shifting to a new facility. A much nicer one that certainly wasn't a warehouse. Having connections with Saito was proving more beneficial to everyone and what they do than just to Cobb and his family. People in Saito's league were more paranoid than anyone knew and they all wanted subconscious security. Saito referred Cobb, and the "Inception Team" as he secretly (and fondly) called it, to his upscale relationships and affiliations. Soon Cobb was inundated with requests from the social elite to reinforce their minds against the very thing that Cobb had become expert at.

This time, though, Cobb's aim was not to steal secrets or to plant ideas, but to actually help the new clients. After he had returned to his family, Cobb did what he did best, which was not thievery, but navigating people's minds, and it was paying off. All from the Inception Team had stayed on board, save for Saito, to cash in on the spoils. _"It's more than money, though, isn't it? It must be. Even Arthur is more contented in his work," _Eames stopped abruptly, mid-stride, _"Speaking of the devil, where __**is**__ he?" _His wrist watch read "7:12 AM". Eames looked about with a puzzled expression. Arthur should be here by now. He was here everyday at 7 AM on the nose, but the warehouse was oddly Arthur-less. _"Caught in traffic, I suppose. Not even the great Arthur can avoid that necessary evil," _ The relationship between Eames and Arthur was that of siblings that don't get enough space from each other with an adult-maturity level.

Eames scoffed to himself, "If **that** makes any sense at all," The two were as inseparable as brothers, but you'd never know by the volley of sarcastic banter thrown between the two. Eames liked to think that he knew Arthur better than anyone else on the team, even Cobb. And that was true to some extent. Cobb had known Arthur longer, but Eames had an uncanny knack at solving the seemingly infinite puzzle that Arthur was. Once Eames figured out a pattern or system, no matter how complex, that Arthur used or took ideas from, Eames took advantage of it, and, if an opportunity arose, he'd push buttons or throw Arthur for a loop by juking him out of his system. Sometimes, it was for amusement and other times, Eames simply wanted to know how Arthur would react.

A look of slight confusion and mental calculation would flash across Arthur's face, and he would almost instantly recover, his mind throwing new, but calculated sequences into the gap. In this way, Arthur could be very flexible if he kept his mind in shape. In any case, if you needed to hash something out with Arthur, you talked to Eames first to get some advice so Arthur wouldn't grind your nose into the pavement with his intellect and quick wit. Ariadne took advantage of "service" often.

The warehouse door opened and Eames turned, expecting Arthur, "Your late-" But it was Yusuf and Cobb who entered. Yusuf cocked his head, "We are?" Eames waved it off, "Never mind," Yusuf shrugged and went to his makeshift lab. Cobb spoke, "Morning, Eames," "Good morning, Cobb," Eames didn't mention Arthur yet. He'd show up sooner or later and then Eames could tease him about being late. But for now, Eames got to work creating documents, thinking about layouts and chatting with Cobb about clients. Ariadne appeared at 8:02, "Good morning!" She was cheery in the morning, which was refreshing after Cobb's steely face. "Good morning, darling. How's school?" She smiled her half smile, "It's busy, but good. Not as much fun as this, though," "Indeed," She trotted to her work station and began shaping paper rectangles into 3D layouts for dream levels and worlds. Soon, she was in a creative zone and fully content. No one disturbed her when she was fully into her work. It was like everyone was a little fearful that if they interrupted the creative streak, horrible things would happen. She tried to assure everyone that the Earth wouldn't break in two, but they let her alone anyways. It became an amusing thing to joke about during lunch break.

Eames looked about. No Arthur yet? _"This is unheard of. Arthur is always here before anyone!" _Eames finally voiced is thoughts, "Has anyone seen Arthur today?" Everyone looked up and then looked around, puzzled expressions drifting onto their faces. Ariadne spoke, "He's not here...what? Where **is** he?" Yusuf shrugged, "I didn't even notice he wasn't here," Ariadne replied, "Neither did I..." Eames chuckled, "That's the way it is with Arthur. You always know when he's always around, but when he's gone no one notices," Cobb nodded, "That's true," And it was. Arthur was a cryptic being in that way. He was prevalent when he was present, but as soon as he was out of sight, he was out of mind. Not because no one cared about him, but his demeanor led you to believe that there was no reason to worry about him when he wasn't around.

Cobb, on the other hand, often crossed their minds when he wasn't around. He could take care of himself, sure, but his tortured past experience with Mal worried everyone to some extent. But now, Eames found himself wondering where Arthur was. It wasn't like him to not show up with out notification. He got up and strode over to Cobb, "Right. I'm going to call Arthur. See if he's still alive," Cobb didn't look up but replied, "Good idea," Eames pulled his iPhone from his pocket and searched his contacts, "A...R...T...There we are," The number dialed and, to Eame's surprise, there was no answer. _"He always answer's the cell phone," _So then Eames tried the home phone with little hope. To his surprise, he got an answer, but it wasn't at all what he was expecting.

The voice was rife with sleep or fatigue, "...Hello...?" "Arthur? Is that you?" A groan replied. Eames raised an eyebrow, "Are you alright? You sound horrible," Arthur was laying in bed, covers thrown to one side. He felt ghastly: he was burning hot one second, then freezing cold the next, his stomach was ready to heave up what little contents still remained in it, his throat was parched, but he couldn't drink anything because he'd throw it up. It had never occurred to him to call anyone. His mind and body was tired as he had been up most of the night puking. His voice was weak, "I won't be there today..." Eames almost laughed, "Well obviously, darling. It's almost 8:30. We all wanted to know if you were still alive,"

Arthur tried to shake off his drowsiness, but doing so made his stomach churn. "Arthur?" Eames felt a small twinge of anxiety, "Hello? You alright?" Arthur groaned, "Sure," he only wanted to end the conversation. It was making him nauseous. Eames furrowed his brow, "Alright then...keep us updated, will you, darling?" "Mmph," Eames returned the phone to his pocket and returned to his work after a glance from Cobb. In the back of his mind though, Eames was worried about Arthur. He pushed it away and tried to focus on his work. After an hour, he gave up and grabbed his coat and keys, "I'll be back in a bit,"

Eames arrived at the upscale apartments that Arthur called home. He found Arthur's room on the list and buzzed it. When he got no response, he buzzed it again. He didn't want to be annoying, (for once), but he needed to get in. Arthur heard the buzzer and slowly got up to unlock the door. He smacked the button and Eames slipped into the building. Arthur was back in bed when Eames let himself in. The apartment was impeccably clean and organized. Eames poked his head into Arthur's room, "Hello, there. You look terrible," Eames was taken aback a little. Arthur was still in his pajamas (white shirt, black sweats) with messy hair. He was pale and looked simply sickly. He didn't greet Eames, he just groaned. Eames kept his distance, "What's wrong with you, then? Flu? Fever?"

Arthur replied shortly, "Both," Eames sucked in a breath, "Ooooh. Well, sorry about that, darling. What's your temp? Are you drinking water?" Arthur frowned, eyes closed, silent. What was Eames doing here anyways? Eames looked around and took a step to the side of the bed. Based on Arthur's condition, it wouldn't be smart to leave him alone, "Right. I'm going to stay here till your well enough to stand, got it?" Arthur sighed, "Fine," Eames gave him a pat on the shoulder and left the room to let him rest. If Arthur was to be honest, he was actually grateful that Eames was here. With him here, Arthur felt he could rest easy and he did.

Through out the day, Eames witnessed Arthur's strength return little by little. He also witnessed Arthur puking his guts out several times after Eames forced him to drink some water. Arthur hated him for it, but every bit of fluid, whether it be water or juice, that Eames forced Arthur to stomach helped with his recovery. They didn't talk much because Arthur slept through most of the day, but by 4 PM, he was out of bed and on the couch, reading. He was still pale and shaky, but his fever had gone down from 104.5 to 100.1 and he hadn't thrown up for an hour now. With out Eames there, Arthur would have been in bad shape, or at least more miserable for the whole day. A cell phone jingle pierced the air and Eames reached into his pocket and touched 'talk'. "Are you at Arthur's?" It was Cobb, "Hello, Cobb. Yeah I am. He's been pretty sick. Throwing up and high fever and such," "And you've been over there since 9?" "Yep. Making sure this young kid can look after himself," Arthur shot him a glare and Eames laughed. It was utterly impossible to take a sick, messy, tired, hungry, pajama donning Arthur seriously.

Cobb kept to the point, obviously focused on something back in the warehouse, "Ok, well we were all curious as to what you were doing and how Arthur was. That's all," "Right, then, darling. I'll be there tomorrow, but Arthur won't be. Have a good evening, Cobb," "You too," Eames then turned to Arthur, "I'm going to get moving home. You'll be ok tonight?" Arthur stretched, "I'll be fine, Eames. Thanks for the help today," Eames gasped dramatically, "Was that a 'thank you', darling? Your more courteous when your under the weather!" Arthur's expression hardened, "Don't push your luck or I'll purposely turn my subconscious on you the next time we dreamshare," Eames shrugged off the threat, but there was some real credibility to it. Arthur's subconscious could be vicious and he knew how to utilize the projections like minions. Eames chuckled, "Good evening, Arthur. Call if you need anything," Arthur smiled, "I will. Thanks again, Eames," Eames gave a 'thumbs up' as he walked out the door. Arthur sighed, contented, and refocused on his book. He was grateful for a friend like Eames.


End file.
